


Christmas Is For Children

by flawedamythyst



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-28
Updated: 2009-12-28
Packaged: 2018-10-16 01:27:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10561062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flawedamythyst/pseuds/flawedamythyst
Summary: Sam narrowed his eyes. “I’m not sixteen,” he said. “I’m twenty-eight. I just look sixteen.”





	

“I still don’t understand why we can’t have sex,” said Sam grumpily, as if they were alone in the car rather than in the middle of a crowded grocery store on one of the busiest shopping days of the year.

Dean gritted his teeth and plastered a fake smile on for the benefit of the woman glaring at him from just down the aisle. “Because you’re sixteen,” he said. “Now quit whining about it.”

Sam narrowed his eyes. “I’m not sixteen,” he said. “I’m twenty-eight. I just _look_ sixteen.”

“And act it,” Dean pointed out. “It doesn’t matter, Sammy. I’m not having sex with you while you’re cursed. Or while you’re being an annoying brat. Now, what the hell do you want for dinner tomorrow?”

“Your cock,” said Sam stubbornly.

Dean gave up. Sam had only been a sixteen-year-old again for three days and already he was driving him nuts. It had been bad enough the first time around, when at least Sam had had Dad to butt heads against and Dean had been able to escape to a bar or somewhere. This time it was just the two of them and Sam seemed determined to take out all his rejuvenated teenage angst on Dean, especially once Dean had refused to have sex with him.

It was just weird, was all. Dean liked having sex with grown-up Sam, the one who was big enough and strong enough to take everything Dean could throw at him and turn it back on him. Sixteen-year-old Sam was still growing, still at the same height as Dean and skinny like he could barely believe Sam had ever been. He was the Sam Dean used to take for drives so that he could escape Dad for a bit, the one who was obsessed with libraries and homework – definitely not the one Dean wanted to be fucking.

He grabbed a couple of frozen dinners off the shelf almost at random and threw them in the basket. It was Christmas Day tomorrow and there wasn’t going to be anywhere open for them to get food, which really added to the annoyance of Sam being cursed. Dean had been almost looking forward to Christmas – staying in for the day, drinking way too much eggnog, watching the game and then fucking Sam for a good few hours, until they were both just worn out and sweaty and feeling awesome. Having to put up with the grumbling-teenage-bitch version of Sam just wasn’t going to be the same.

“I want the other one,” said Sam, pointing. Dean suppressed a sigh and swapped the dinner he’d just grabbed. “Also, we need eggnog,” added Sam.

“You’re not drinking till you’re 28 again,” said Dean immediately.

Sam gaped at him. “What? Oh, come on, Dean! That’s ridiculous!”

“It’s the rules,” said Dean firmly. “Sixteen-year-olds don’t drink.”

Sam scowled. “No sex, no alcohol...being a teenager sucks,” he muttered, shoving his hands deep into his hoodie pockets. Dean had to resist the urge to ruffle his hair to wind him up, like he’d used to twelve years ago. Getting Sam even more riled up was just going to make him even more of a pain to shop with.

“Being around a teenager sucks too,” he said. “Seriously, I’m this close to just leaving you here and going to a strip club.”

Sam made an annoyed sound that Dean instantly recognised from when he’d been sixteen the first time around, but he mercifully shut up for the rest of the trip round the supermarket, trailing behind Dean sullenly. Dean ignored him and got on with grabbing what they needed and getting the hell out of the shop before the mass of people inside it caused a rupture in the space-time continuum. He hated shopping on Christmas Eve.

 

****

 

Sam was in a slightly better mood the next day, after Bobby had called to wish them a merry Christmas, and to tell them that he’d finished working out the ritual that would turn Sam back to his real age, just as soon as there was a full moon. They ate their meals, then settled down with a big bowl of popcorn in front of the game. Dean thought about getting himself a beer, but the inevitable argument with Sam over whether or not he got one as well just wasn’t going to be worth it.

Sam settled on the sofa beside Dean, a lot closer than he usually sat. Dean could feel his bony teenage limbs pressed against his body and it was an unwelcome reminder that he wasn’t going to get his Christmas fuck.

“Shift up,” he said, pushing at Sam.

Sam didn’t move. “I need to be able to reach the popcorn or you’ll eat it all.”

Dean had to admit to himself that that was likely. “Well,” he grumbled, “just keep your sharp elbows out of my ribs, then.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “You’ve got plenty of padding,” he muttered. Dean frowned, and tried to subtly feel his belly. There wasn’t any padding there – Sam was just trying to wind him up. He was as fit as he’d always been. Well, maybe there was a slight roll that wasn’t there before, but he was getting older, it was to be expected, right? Maybe he should think about eating less. He shovelled in a handful of popcorn. In the new year, obviously.

The game was exciting enough to keep Dean entertained and for a while he didn’t notice that Sam was creeping ever closer, or how often their hands seemed to accidentally brush in the popcorn bowl. When he did catch on, he was more amused than annoyed. It seemed like Sam’s seduction techniques had regressed to a teenager’s as well. Any minute now he’d be doing the old yawn-and-put-your-arm-around trick, and then Dean might just have to mock him forever.

Instead, Sam put his hand casually on Dean’s knee, fingers curling around to his in-seam. Dean suppressed a smirk and pretended not to notice, staring at the TV as if the game had all his attention. Sam started stealthily moving his hand up, further and further, until his hand was resting right against Dean’s crotch. Dean couldn’t hide his automatic reaction to having Sam’s hand there, cock growing half-hard, and he could tell from the way Sam shifted his leg that he thought that meant he was going to win.

“You can grope me all you want,” said Dean conversationally. “I’m still not going to fuck you.”

Sam huffed out an annoyed breath, but his hand didn’t move away. Instead, he gave up all pretence of watching the game and turned to face Dean, rubbing his hand properly over his cock. “Come on, Dean,” he wheedled. “Just let me blow you – you can shut your eyes and pretend I’m my real age, if it would make you feel better.”

The whine in his voice just made him sound way too young. Dean grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand away. “No,” he said. “It’s not happening, Sam, just accept it.”

Sam threw himself sulkily back onto the sofa and crossed his arms. He stared hard at the TV, frown carved deep on his face.

Dean sighed. “Don’t be a bitch,” he said. “Sam, you know this is bugging me just as much as it is you.”

“If that was true,” said Sam, petulantly, “we’d be doing it already.”

“Well, maybe a bit less,” admitted Dean. “Guess I don’t have the sex drive of a teenager any more.”

“I wish I didn’t,” said Sam, uncrossing his arms and relaxing back a bit. “It’s a pain in the ass. Feels like I’m hard all the freaking time.” He turned wide, pleading eyes on Dean. “If you’d just...please, Dean.”

“No,” said Dean again, firmly. He relented slightly though and pulled Sam back in against his body, one arm around his shoulders. “It’s not long,” he said. “Just another week and a bit, then we can get you back to how you should be, and fuck like Viagra-driven bunnies.”

“We could fuck now,” muttered Sam, but he seemed to have given up for now, resting his head down on Dean’s shoulder with a sigh. Dean usually didn’t like this kind of thing – cuddling on the sofa like a couple of chicks - but having Sam so young again was making him remember just how clingy he’d been as a kid, before he’d gone into angst-ridden teenager mode.

The game went into the second quarter, and Dean settled back again, Sam warm against the side of his body. He might not be getting all the sex he’d been looking forward to, but this was still a pretty good Christmas, especially compared to some of the others they’d had.


End file.
